


Three

by Venstar



Series: Meaningless Scars [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 19:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15150260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venstar/pseuds/Venstar
Summary: He was done obeying blue-eyed men for the day.





	Three

**Author's Note:**

> part of the meaningless scars series. the meaningless meaning not everything will have a meaning, or be related to scars, but that I wrote at minimum 500 words for this challenge. for this one, i wanted to try that whole charlotte's web entry using dialogue.

“What are you going to do with that gun?” Q asks. His arms were wrapped around his laptop, his fingers scratching at the stickers littered across it’s surface, his eyes flitted between the gun and the gun-holder. Eyes that were a flat, faded blue and had once looked upon him with a certain fondness. A fondness that came on rare, good days with a request and for those oh too many bad days, something else had filled them. On those days, Q knew the hard press of rings against his skin, as he was slapped hard, with no care to the kind of impressions that would leave, or the sound of leather snapping together before it whipped against his skin, leaving welts that made it difficult to sit.

“You’re a liability now.” It was said to him very quietly, more out of detachment than out of kindness.

“All I did was help you when you asked.” Q says, his voice whisper thin as he tried to reason with the man before him. “And when you didn’t ask, when I was…forced to.” His resistance to what his father wanted, always crumbled under the force of his father’s iron will and hand.

“Which makes you a liability if you would do anything if forced to,” The man says. There’s pity in his voice. Regret even, that Q could be so stupid. “Silly boy, you’ve learned nothing after all this time.” 

Q inhaled sharply, as if he’d been slapped, rather than calmly informed of his blatant stupidity.

“And that, makes you a target,” The man says, he added a smile after his cold words, as if he had explained everything and didn’t it all make sense, darling. 

Q saw the finger tighten on the trigger. Damn, he was a fool indeed. He inhaled and closed his eyes. Waiting, waiting and waiting for the shot, and when it came, he cringed and curled himself inward, his body hanging like a question mark as waited to feel something, anything. There was nothing. They say you never feel the killing blow.

He jerked again, cowering as another voice spoke to him.

“Q, open your eyes.” 

Q shook his head. Whatever had happened he didn’t want to see. They say you never feel the fatal blow. A hand gripped his shoulder and shook him. Blunt fingers dug into his shoulder, it already ached from having taken a beating earlier that day. He grimaced and tried to duck away.

“Q, what do you see?” The voice was whisper soft, cajoling and laced with a stupid sense of humor that Q hated with a passion because it was always inappropriately thrown at him. The hand eased up and became less painful, stroking along his shoulder and up to his jaw, calmly cupping his face.

Q finally cracked an eye, to see another set of blue eyes intensely focused on him, looking upon him with a certain fondness before they swept away to look where his father now lay. Faded blue eyes empty of life. Q grit his teeth together and forced air through them to growl at his ‘savior.’ “A bloody big ship. I hate you. I really, really, really hate you.”

“Good. Maybe you won’t be so gullible next time.” Bond smirked again, as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind Q’s ear. He left Q, to return to the lifeless form lying broken on the floor. One clean shot through the temple…well, clean being a relative term, it was all Bond had needed. Two would have been wasteful.

Q’s arms tightened further and he thought about chucking his beloved laptop at the agent standing before him. Possibly braining him completely and ending his long-standing career with MI6. He imagined that the whole of MI6 would thank him. Think of the money that they’d save by hiring an agent who would follow mission protocol, procedures and budgetary bottom lines. He would have to gamble on the risk that his very expensive, beloved and customized laptop would survive a tussle with one of the hardest heads he knew. He sighed. James wasn’t worth it.

“Q, Q!”

Bond’s voice interrupted his daydreaming and for that, Q wanted to brain him again.

“Come here, Q.” 

No, he was done obeying blue-eyed men for the day. Q spun on the heel of his ratty and beloved converse and walked to the back of his childhood home. Heel toe, heel toe, like a good little soldier, through the empty halls that had once imprisoned him. Sent like bait, back into his old life, made to crawl in front of his father, go back to work until he had uncovered where his parental scumbag was hiding his replacement.

“Q! Q! Where are you going? Get back here!”

Q didn’t acknowledge Bond, he just continued to march, his pace picking up as Bond’s voice rose at his not obeying his orders. It was time to leave, too many ghosts and scars were housed in this hell hole.


End file.
